Sweet Dreams and Flying Machines
by awilystar
Summary: Brennan meets Booth's family, prompting an emotional examination of her own life. [BB multichapter]
1. Chapter 1

**Sweet Dreams and Flying Machines**

**

* * *

**

**Author's Note:** Okay, so I'm bringing this story back into action. No new content right now, really, just re-vamped and expanded a little bit. I plan on updating this regularly, but I haven't written anything more yet, so I'm sorry in advance if something comes up. Now, read and enjoy!

* * *

They are in his office, finishing up the paperwork from their latest case, when he looks up from his desk over her shoulder and sees his mother. She's standing in the doorway, clutching her ridiculous handbag to her chest, and he smiles and beckons her in. He introduces her to Bones, but he uses her real name instead of the nickname she hates because his mother would scold him for treating such a pretty lady like that.

"Mom, this is Temperance Brennan," he says.

Judy Booth is all straight lines and spotless attire, and Temperance shifts under her intense blue gaze. She stands a little closer than socially acceptable, and the soft flowery scent of her perfume wafts up Temperance's nose and makes her want to sneeze.

"Well, look at you," Judy turns to her son. "What a beautiful girl, isn't she Seeley?"

He just nods, attention fixed on the folder in his hands. Temperance opens her mouth to comment, but her words are cut short by Judy's arms around her shoulders in a gentle hug. She returns the gesture, strangely comforted by this motherly presence.

"I've read all of your books, Dr. Brennan," she says kindly. "My son has told me a lot about you," Judy smiles.

At this, Booth looks up, a wry smile on his face, and tosses the folder onto his desk. It lands with a soft 'thump', and he crosses the room to give his mother a kiss on the cheek. Temperance is touched by this display of affection, though she doesn't let it show, and the jealousy lingers on the surface of her expected smile.

"Yeah, Bones is pretty fantastic," he quips with a smirk in his partner's direction. "She's got an ego the size of Washington, too."

"Please, Mrs. Booth, call me Temperance," she sends daggers at Booth.

"Only if you call me Judy," she replies with a kind smile.

As if remembering for the first time the reason for her visit, Judy puts a hand to her chest and smiles widely at her son. Temperance takes this as a cue and backs away, towards the desk, and busies herself with the mindless organization of the file Booth dumped there earlier. She finishes quickly, stuffing the spilled papers into the folder, curiosity about Booth's mother overruling her usual need for alphabetical order. Wandering back over to the pair, she catches the end of their conversation.

"Happy Birthday," Judy says to her son, patting him on the hand. "Nice to meet you, Temperance."

And with that, she leaves the room as quickly as she had entered it five minutes before, not giving Temperance a chance to return the acknowledgment. Booth sighs, runs a hand through his hair, and stares after his mother with a strange expression on his face. Temperance watches him, discreetly, and she's surprised when he turns to her and speaks.

"Let's go, Bones," he sighs.

"Where?" she replies, caught off guard.

"My birthday dinner, it's at six. You're invited," he replies.

When she gives him a look, he shrugs and tosses his keys in the air, catching them in his fist when they fall.

"But… she didn't even ask me!" Temperance says, almost offended. "And I didn't know it was your birthday! Why didn't you tell me?" she asks, now truly offended and standing with her hands on her hips.

Booth just shrugs again and reaches for his jacket. He jerks his chin in the direction of the door and tosses her coat to her, looking back over his shoulder at her as he turns to leave his office.

"Come on, we can't be late for a Booth family function," he grimaces.

* * *

**Author's Note:** So, what did you think of that version? I need some suggestions about names for Booth's family members. On the show, I don't believe we know anything about his parents or siblings, so for the sake of this story, he has a brother and a sister. Here's what I have so far. Booth's mother – Judy. Booth's father – Jack, John, Noah. Booth's older sister – Lauren, Molly, Alex. Booth's younger brother – Jake, Josh, David. Any advice would be appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

**Sweet Dreams and Flying Machines**

**

* * *

**

**Author's Note: **Wow you guys, thanks for the abundance of reviews and suggestions for names! I've decided. Meet Colonel Noah Booth, his son Jared Booth, and his daughter Danny Booth. Just a note, let's assume for the purpose of this story that all episodes of the show aired so far have actually taken place. Now, on with the story! It's quite a long chapter for me, so I expect many reviews my pretties!

* * *

"Where exactly is your parents' house, Booth?" Temperance asks, one hand messing with the seatbelt across her chest.

They've been driving for a while, steadily northwest from the city, the scenery gradually fading from office buildings to the more spaced houses of the D.C. suburbs. The clock reads 5:50, and the very punctual Temperance is becoming a bit agitated. Booth, eyes on the road, smirks and flicks his turn signal at the next exit, slowing as they leave the freeway and turn off from traffic.

"Welcome to Gaithersburg, Bones," he says in reply, showing her the big green sign that indicates that they are indeed in Gaithersburg, Maryland.

She glares at him and settles back against the seat to watch the neighborhood out of the window. Five minutes of silence pass, and Booth pulls the SUV to a stop by the curb across from a large white house. He cuts the engine and turns to Temperance.

"To spare you the pain, I'll warn you now. My mother, she's the best of them," he states.

Temperance looks up from her lap and raises an eyebrow at Booth. He grimaces, and she wonders why he's so against spending an evening with his family.

"I have a brother and a sister," he continues. "I'm the middle child," he says.

"You know, anthropologically speaking, middle children have trouble finding their place. While they're growing up, they often learn non-aggressive strategies to get what they want, such as negotiation, cooperation, or seeking parental intervention. As the underdogs themselves in many sibling conflicts, middle children frequently develop a fine sense of empathy with the downtrodden. They often take a genuine interest in getting to know other people, and, being in the middle, they may find it easier to look at interpersonal situations from various points of view," she pauses for a breath, but Booth stops her from going on.

"Thank you for that insightful sermon, Bones, but if you keep it up, we're going to be late," he taunts.

"Are you making fun of me?" she asks, appalled.

He nods and reaches for the handle to exit the SUV. She meets him on his side and they start up the brick walkway to the front door. She pauses though, and lays a hand on his arm to stop him.

"You never mentioned your father," she says, a questioning tone in her voice.

Booth's eyes darken and he looks away, pulling his arm rather sharply from her grasp and taking two large steps in the direction of the house. She startles and tucks her hands in her jacket pockets, remaining in place. Seeing that his rashness confused her, he sighs and returns to her side.

"I'm sorry. It's just… in a nutshell, my father and I don't have the best of relationships," he shrugs and meets her prying gaze with a forced smile. "He was in the Army for years, he's retired now, but we haven't been the same since I left the Rangers and started FBI work."

She can't help but think that at least he _has_ a father to fight with. Pushing these thoughts from her head, Temperance lays the hand on his arm again, and this time he doesn't protest. She's got that look on her face, the one she gets when she's about to start on something anthropological, and Booth braces himself for a lecture.

"You should try talking to him, Booth. According to this book I'm reading, communication is the key element in all relationships, whether familial, sexual," she stops abruptly when she sees Booth's face and raises her eyebrows. "What?" she questions.

"No offense Bones, but since when have you been a communication specialist?" he teases. "I didn't know you and Dr. Phil were so tight. Besides, talking to my father is not easy, you'll see."

She frowns, not understanding the reference like usual.

"Who's Dr. Phil? Some kind of expert?" she asks seriously.

"Never mind, Bones," he shakes his head.

Booth speculates her ability to cheer him up so quickly, and the boyish smile returns to his face with a flourish. He moves her hand from his arm and takes it in his own, gently caressing her skin with his thumb. She lets him, to both their surprise, and the small smile she offers him in return makes him want pull her close and kiss her senseless. He's seriously pondering taking this action, screw the consequences, when the squeak of door hinges makes Temperance jump away from him as if he were on fire.

"There you kids are, I thought I heard you talking," Judy calls from the porch. "Come in, come in," she demands.

Booth sighs and straightens his suit jacket before crossing the lawn and climbing the three steps to the front door, Temperance trailing behind him. Judy ushers them in and closes the door behind her. She grabs Temperance's hand and drags her from the foyer towards a wide doorway, muffled voices coming from up ahead.

"Everyone's in the living room," she says.

Temperance, wide-eyed and anxious about the upcoming social situation, gives Booth a pleading look over her shoulder as she's led away. He just grins at her, that ridiculous grin that only makes him appear more arrogant, and follows at a distance.

Booth's brother and sister are sitting side-by-side on the big couch. When they enter, both siblings stand with smiles, and Temperance feels a bit more at ease. She glances briefly around the spacious room, but Booth's father is nowhere in sight. There isn't time to consider this though, because Booth's hand is on her lower back and he's introducing her to his family.

"Temperance, this is my brother Jared. Jared, this is Temperance," he says formally.

Jared reminds her of Zack with his slightly messy dark blonde hair, but his eyes are as brown as Booth's. He's quite attractive, but his features still show remnants of boyhood and she guesses his age to be around twenty-three. He offers a hand and she shakes it, automatically giving the expected reply.

"It's nice to meet you, Jared," she states.

"Yeah, you too," he agrees. "So, how long have you two been together?" he asks.

Temperance, confused, glances sideways at Booth but finds him busy receiving birthday greetings from his sister whom she has yet to meet. She shifts and crosses her arms, narrowing her eyes in perplexity.

"I don't know what you mean," she replies.

"You and my big brother, you're dating, right?" he pries.

Booth chooses this moment to saunter over, his sister in tow. Amused, he settles back and waits to see how Temperance will handle being questioned so ruthlessly from his brother.

"Oh, um…" she stutters for a minute, taken off guard. "We're not…"

Booth chuckles and jumps to her rescue, sending his brother a hidden glare behind clenched teeth.

"We're just partners," he says. "_Work_ partners," he adds after seeing Jared's smirk.

"You work way too much, Seeley," Jared starts.

Booth's sister, watching with knowing amusement as the brothers bicker, turns to Temperance and smiles. She's the female version of Booth, dark-haired with eyes radiating friendliness. Temperance stands much taller than she does, and she notices that Booth's sister hardly comes up to his shoulder. Despite her height, Temperance thinks that this woman could definitely stand up for herself, something that wins points in her book at once.

"I'm Danny," she offers a greeting.

Temperance shakes her hand and introduces herself in return.

"Danny's an interesting name for a girl," Temperance says, scientific curiosity getting the best of her.

Danny laughs lightly, one hand going to push a lock of hair behind her ear, and smirks.

"I was supposed to be a boy and be named after my mother's father. His name was Daniel. I was a girl, of course, and my parents hated the name Danielle, so they settled with Danny," she explained.

"That's completely logical," Temperance responds, quite pleased with the process by which Danny had received her name.

Judy, apparently busy with cooking in the kitchen, pokes her head into the living room and calls to her daughter, interrupting the conversation.

"Danny, can you lend me a hand for a minute?" she asks.

Danny responds with a 'yes' and gives Temperance an apologetic look before disappearing behind the swinging door. Booth, having sent his brother into the dining room to set the table, appears by her side and grabs her elbow gently.

"Come on, let's take our coats upstairs and I'll give you a quick tour," he suggests.

She follows him back into the foyer, trailing behind a bit as she looks about. Booth heads for the stairs, but finds that his way is blocked by a rather formidable man, at least in his eyes. Temperance is aware that this is Booth's father. She notices the frigid way in which they stare at each other and resists the urge to turn around and go back to the living room.

"Agent Booth," his father greets him formally.

"Colonel," Booth responds with a sharp nod.

Temperance, for the time being, is unnoticed as the two men look frostily at one another. She takes the opportunity to examine Booth's father. He's a big man, taller even than Booth. His shoulders are broad and his slightly graying hair is cut short atop his head. A strong jaw line and slightly crooked nose give way to clear brown eyes that she would recognize anywhere. He's a handsome man, comparable to Booth in many ways, and she wonders if her partner would age as well as his father.

"Colonel, this is Doctor Temperance Brennan," Booth breaks the silence. "She's a forensic anthropologist at the Jeffersonian," he explains.

Booth's father fixes his attention on her and studies her closely. Temperance, hardly affronted, returns his look with a raised head and jutting jaw. She sees a twinge of amusement in the depths of his eyes, something she usually associates with Booth. He finishes his examination, what he was looking for she'll never know, and drops his chin in a nod of acceptance. Offering her a hand, he lets the corners of his mouth raise in a small gesture of amity.

"Colonel Noah Booth, at your service," he says, baritone voice tinted with banter. "It's a pleasure, Dr. Brennan," she swears that she sees his left eye wink at her.

Shaking his hand, she drops her defensive posture and relaxes a bit. Glancing sideways at Booth, still rigid and clenched, she knows that she's found a new way to annoy him.

"Call me Temperance, Colonel Booth," she says pleasantly.

"Alright, Temperance," he replies. "Dinner will be ready soon. I'll talk to you then."

Booth, agitated that his partner has a better relationship with his father than he does, despite the fact that she's known him for two minutes, takes Temperance's elbow in his strong grip and directs her towards the stairs.

"You're fraternizing with the enemy," he complains.

She yanks her elbow from his grasp and glares at him.

"I like him. He's much more pleasant than you are most of the time," she rebukes.

The reach the top of the stairs and Booth takes a left, towards the bedrooms. Reaching the first door, he shrugs off his jacket and tosses it on the bed. Temperance does the same, noticing the lack of furnishings in this particular room.

"Guest room," Booth says in reply to her look.

He takes her down the hallway, gesturing at closed doors and explaining their contents rather quickly. The last room on the right, however, must be his, because he pushes open the door and lets her enter. It's cozy, not too small, a single bed with a simple blue comforter taking up most of the space. The walls are plastered with sports posters and trophies and plaques of multiple achievements line the shelves. Temperance is fascinated by this glimpse into Booth's childhood and wastes no time with her investigation. Booth leans against the door frame, arms crossed, an indecipherable look on his face as he watches her poking around. A certain object catches her eye, nestled amongst old magazines and pictures sprawled out on the desk. She grabs for it, reads it, and turns to Booth with a smirk on her face and a sparkle in her eye.

"You were in science club?" she asks with disbelief, gesturing to the dusty plaque in her hand.

"No," Booth replies, keeping a straight face, though his eyes widen considerably.

Temperance persists, tapping a finger against the plaque as she reads it again.

"Not only were you in science club," she pauses for dramatic effect, "but you were the _president_ of science club."

Booth sighs and gives in. With a roguish grin to hide his embarrassment, he crosses the room in three big steps and stands in front of her.

"Does that make me more appealing to you?" he asks.

She ignores his question and replaces the plaque on the desk, trying to avoid brushing shoulders with him as she moves back to the door.

"Booth, you're a squint," she states factually, beaming with pride.

He recognizes the teasing tone of her voice, marvels at the fact that she even _has_ a teasing tone, basks because he is the object of her teasing, and sighs because she can be so irritating sometimes.

"Let's go, Bones," he says. "Dinner's probably ready."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Did you like? This was the hardest thing I've ever written. I think it's the fact that I had to basically create Booth's entire family. Yeah. But anyways, this might be all happy and fluffy now, but be warned, because the angst will set in soon enough. Please, leave a review, any feedback is appreciated.


	3. Chapter 3

**Sweet Dreams and Flying Machines**

* * *

**Author's Note:** So sorry about the delay in posting this chapter! Real life is hectic for a high school senior! Anyways, here's the next installment. I believe you'll enjoy it, there's definitely some BB fluff. I think I finally have an idea of where this is going, so expect chapters more frequently unless I get writer's block, of course. Now, enjoy!

* * *

"Scotch, on the rocks," he declares. "Don't forget the twist."

Temperance, puzzled by the direct order, watches as Colonel Booth turns his back to her and opens the double doors to the backyard. She glances into the kitchen where the rest of the family, her partner included, is tidying up after a rather uneventful dinner. The drink cart is to her left, and with a shrug she approaches it and grabs the nearest tumbler. Tossing a few ice cubes into the glass, she fills it halfway with the rather intoxicating beverage and secures the lemon slice on the rim. With a final glance towards the kitchen, she turns away and heads outside with the drink.

He's sitting on a bench, his back to her. Temperance crosses the deck, her shoes nearly soundless against the wood, and stands in front of him. Sensing her presence, Colonel Booth looks up and offers her a half-smile.

"Sit down, Temperance," he directs.

She complies, positioning herself beside him on the bench, and outstretches her hand, offering him the scotch he had ordered.

"Thank you," he says, taking it from her and swirling the glass to make the ice cubes clink against the sides.

They sit in silence for a minute as he sips, the sun sinking lower by the minute. It's getting cooler, and stars of early spring begin to appear as it gets darker. Temperance shifts, causing the cold metal of the bench to brush against the side of her leg.

"I don't know what my son has told you," Colonel Booth breaks the silence, "but I'm not nearly as frightening as I'm sure he made me out to be."

Surprised, she sits up straight and turns to him, eyes narrowed.

"I'm not afraid of you," she says rather defiantly.

This makes him chuckle, and he shakes his head at her boldness.

"I know, and I doubt that you're afraid of much," he replies.

They fall into silence again, a comfortable one, broken only by the chirping crickets and the occasional clinking of plates from inside. Temperance sighs, leaning back to look at the stars above their heads. Something about the man beside her, nursing his scotch and humming some old-fashioned war song under his breath, triggers memories of her own father. While in reality the two men couldn't be more physically different, Temperance knows that it's his calming presence and willing ear that makes her feel more vulnerable and child-like than she's felt in ages.

"You remind me of my father," she says quietly, as if she doesn't want him to hear her admission.

"Oh?" he replies just as softly, not prying but encouraging.

"Yes," she doesn't elaborate.

He doesn't know her story, he doesn't know that her parents are missing, most likely dead, but he does sense something in her voice that generates compassion in his heart. He knows that she's done talking, at least for now, so he makes a move to get up from the bench. He's almost through the door before he hears her voice again.

"You should talk to Seeley," she realizes that she's sticking her nose where it doesn't belong, as Booth would say, and for once she stops before she says something harmful.

Colonel Booth pauses and turns around, dark brown eyes settling on her.

"I don't know what exactly happened between you two, but whatever it is, you need to talk to him, _please_," she utters.

Temperance finds it strange that she's pleading with her partner's estranged father, a man she's known for less than twenty-four hours. He needs to hear this though, and she forces down her emotional barriers and reminds herself that all this is for Booth. He's done so much for her, and all she can do in return is try to salvage this frail relationship and take away some of the pain.

"I'm familiar with what it's like to live with that regret, with knowing that you never got the chance to apologize…" she trails off, her voice breaking slightly. "I haven't spoken to my brother in ten years. I don't want that to happen to you and Booth," she finishes her speech and drops her eyes to her lap, anxious of the rebuttal that she's sure will come.

Colonel Booth stares at her, torn between being angry at her for interfering and admiring her for her bravery. Settling with somewhere in-between, he traverses the deck and lays a hand on her shoulder. She looks up at him, unshed tears gleaming in early evening light.

"It's complicated," he says.

He squeezes her shoulder gently, a father's reassuring touch. She nods and blinks rapidly, clearing the tears from her eyes. A shadow falls onto the deck, some of the light from the house blocked, and she looks over to see Booth standing in the doorway. He's holding two glasses of wine and appears rather uncomfortable, witnessing this parental encounter between his partner and his father. Temperance beckons him over, watching as Colonel Booth meets his son halfway and stops him with a hand on his arm.

"She's a keeper," Colonel Booth states.

She hears him, though she's sure she's not supposed to, and her heart jumps in her chest. Booth gives his father an indecipherable look and watches him leave before crossing the deck and situating himself next to Temperance on the bench. He hands her one glass and leans back with a sigh.

"Thanks," says, taking a sip of the red drink.

Booth nods in reply, silently pondering the day's events. He watches her from the corner of his eye as she fiddles with the wine glass, his breath catching in his throat as he follows the delicate stroking of her finger on the rim. She glances over at him, wondering about his stillness, and catches him staring. He feels her eyes boring holes into the top of his head, and Booth lets his gaze creep from her hand up to her face, even as everything in him screams to look away. They stare at each other, twilight enhancing the angles of their features, darkening their eyes, providing a veil of obscurity that allows them this freedom.

"Did I interrupt an important conversation?" Booth asks after a while.

She immediately looks away and drops her eyes to fixate on the depleting liquid in her glass.

"Nothing you haven't heard before," she replies calmly.

"Alright," he says, for once not feeling the urge to meddle.

Both of their glasses are empty before either of them speaks again. Temperance breaks the silence first and angles her body slightly towards Booth's, stabilizing herself against the arm of the bench.

"Why are you nice to me?" she questions.

He's surprised by the inquiry but doesn't let the emotion show on his face. He twirls the empty wine glass in his hands, thinking, and then looks at her with seriousness and something else unreadable in his eyes. She tries to listens as he dictates, but most of what he's saying never reaches her ears because of the distracting hand that he's settled on her thigh.

"You make those bastards unsafe," he finishes with a flourish.

She blinks, and the corners of her mouth turn up as she recognizes that she'd be nowhere without this man.

"I couldn't do that without you Booth," she replies softly.

Her hand moves to cover his as it rests on her leg, and she muses that this is the second time today that she's held his hand in her own. He smiles, that charming and boyish smile, and she prepares herself for some kind of remark.

"Maybe you should be nicer to me then Bones," he jokes, but something is hidden beneath the surface of his words.

"Maybe I should," she says with conviction.

They're sitting side-by-side on a bench in Booth's backyard, holding hands and smiling at each other like idiots, and Temperance hasn't felt this comfortable in a long time. A light flicks off inside the house, leaving them in a soft envelope of darkness. She barely registers that Booth is leaning closer until she feels his warm breath on her face. Her eyes widen considerably, but she knows inside that she shouldn't be surprised by his actions. He pauses inches from her, inches that she wants to close by pressing her lips to his. Booth's hand rests against her cheek, his thumb brushing a sweeping and gentle arc beneath her eye.

"Eyelash," he utters.

They both know that there isn't an eyelash on her cheek. Temperance closes her eyes and parts her lips, waiting. Suddenly the warmth is gone, and her eyes snap open to find Booth leaning back alongside the bench. He runs a hand through his hair, and she can almost see his shrug through the shadows.

"The normal way would be to date and _then_ to meet the parents. You already have the second part taken care of," he says.

"Are you asking me out Booth?" she's more shocked than she was a second ago.

"Why do you say it like it's so appalling?" he wonders out loud.

She doesn't know what to say for once in her life, and Booth isn't sure what to think about her silence. His arm, previously resting at his side, moves to lie across the back of the bench, but he refrains from putting it around her shoulder and pulling her to him. Instead, he lets his hand travel to her hair.

"It's just an idea. Think about it," he says.

She shivers as he twirls an auburn curl around his finger, brushing the back of his hand against the nape of her neck.

"Come on, it's getting chilly," he points out, sending her a grin. "Let's go inside."

He allows his hand to linger a second longer before he rises and heads for the door. Temperance sits for a minute, the cold metal of the bench forgotten, before she stands and follows Booth back inside the house.

* * *

**Author's Note:** So… I'm in desperate need of a life. What did you think? Leave a little review, any criticism is welcome.


	4. Chapter 4

**Sweet Dreams and Flying Machines**

**

* * *

**

**Author's Note: **So, this chapter is pure BB fluff. It involves a shirtless Booth and a shower. Yes, you read me right. I do believe that I now know where I'm taking this story, so expect the actual plot to develop in the next couple chapters.

* * *

She knocks on his door three days later at eight-thirty, arms full of boxes of take-out food for them to enjoy. His house is dark, except for the blue flicker of what she assumes to be a movie playing on the TV. She shifts, wondering again if this was a good idea. The porch light switches on, bathing her in a warm yellow glow as she stands on Booth's front steps.

He opens the door, clad in jeans and a navy FBI t-shirt. She looks away from his face, focusing instead on how the material of the shirt stretches tightly over his chest. Her mouth goes dry and she swallows, trying to think of something to say.

"Bones? What are you doing here?" he's surprised to see her.

Snapped from her trance, she shrugs and pushes past him into the foyer of his home. He gives her a confused look, but swings the door shut behind her without protest. By the time he's managed to flick off the porch light and lock the door, she's already vanished into the kitchen.

His stocking feet make no noise on the hardwood floor, but she looks up the second he enters. The boxes of food, now relieved from her arms, rest on the breakfast bar. She's digging in the cupboards for plates and silverware, and he crosses the room and sits on one of the barstools to watch.

"I brought food," she says over her shoulder.

"I see that," he replies. "Thanks," he adds as an afterthought.

Soon, she's sitting beside him and they each have a full plate of sweet-and-sour chicken, fried rice, and egg rolls. Booth takes a bite and chews thoughtfully, a bit thrown off by her presence in his house without explanation.

"You didn't come by the Jeffersonian today," she mentions abruptly. _I missed you today._

He sighs and takes another bite before answering.

"I know. Cullen finalized the report of the last case and I mean to stop over and get you to sign the papers, but I got held up," he explains.

She nods and fixes her attention on her food. They finish eating in companionable silence, the only noise coming from the TV in the living room. Booth stands and gathers their dishes, humming a tune under his breath. It's strange to see him like this, so relaxed and soft, outside of work. She likes it.

Running the water in the sink, Booth can feel her eyes on his back. It only takes a second, and then she's by his side. He glances at her and she holds up a dishtowel.

"You wash, I'll dry," she states.

He shakes his head and sends her a stern look as he squirts the lime-smelling dish soap.

"No Bones, you brought dinner. I'll do the dishes," he ignores her protests. "Sit," he orders.

She obeys silently, situating herself back on the barstool she had been sitting on. She is uncharacteristically quiet, tapping her nails on the countertop in habitual practice. Booth swipes the last plate clean and stacks it with the others to be dried later.

"Booth, is this a date?" she questions out of the blue.

He doesn't answer for a minute. He drains the water from the sink and dries his hands, sighing as he turns around to look her in the eye for the first time tonight.

"You came here," he replies, "so you tell me."

She fiddles with the chunky green necklace around her neck, expression serious.

"I don't know," she pauses. "I think so… I mean, I wouldn't mind if… I've been thinking, Booth," she stops, embarrassed.

He steps away from the sink and walks to her side, eyes sparkling with amusement. She turns on the barstool until she's facing him, hands folded in her lap and eyes focused on the yellow letters of his t-shirt. He looms in front of her and suddenly she wants to escape.

"I wouldn't mind either," he says, noticing her discomfort.

She looks up and smiles, a brilliant smile that he's only seen once or twice before. Still, he doesn't touch her yet. There's something he needs to know.

"So, what did Angela have to say?" he asks, amused.

"I didn't tell her anything," she replies quietly.

Booth is shocked. She didn't talk to her best friend about this? Bones had reached this decision on her own, a fact that made their whole situation even more real. He's amazed, scared even, that she relied on her own failure-of-a-personal-life judgment to make this decision. He smiles and raises his hands to rest them on her shoulders, surprised at the tension he finds.

"Bones…" he trails off.

_Bones, I love you. You've been in my head since the very first day I met you. You're stubborn, ignorant, arrogant, and outrageously intelligent. You annoy the shit out of me and endanger my life on a daily basis, but, God help me, I love you. _

"You're tense," he says with a sigh, rubbing the sides of her neck with his fingers. "Come on," he takes her hand.

Tugging her from the chair, he leads her to the living room and stops, releasing her.

"Wait here," he instructs, disappearing down the hall.

Of course, she follows after him, puzzled by his cryptic actions. He enters a room to his left, and, without thinking, she barges in after him. The first thing she notices is the bed. She's in his bedroom. The second thing she sees is Booth himself, bent over and digging into the bottom of his closet. Before she can react, he straightens and turns around. He's holding a pair of black swim trunks in his hands.

"What are you doing?" she asks.

He quirks an eyebrow at her, unfazed.

"I'm getting in the hot tub," he answers as if it were obvious.

"You have a hot tub?" she's surprised.

"Yes Bones, now shut your mouth and put this on," he directs.

He raises his arms and removes his t-shirt, tossing it at her. It hits her in the chest and she catches it by reflex, looking anywhere but at Booth. This forwardness is something new that she's not quite used to yet. He wanders into the bathroom joined to his room and shuts the door, leaving each of them alone to change.

The shirt is warm and smells like him. Temperance, still shocked, sets it gently on the bed and studies it. Hot-tubbing with Booth? Oh God. She's standing, arms crossed, staring at the shirt, when he knocks from inside the bathroom.

"Bones? Hurry up and change!" he orders.

She sighs, now fully committed to this irrational idea. Turning her back to the bathroom door, she deftly unbuttons her blouse and removes the camisole and bra underneath. Shimmying out of her jeans, she folds her clothes and piles them on the bed. She's almost naked in Booth's bedroom, with only a piece of wood separating them. Angela would love this! Temperance shrugs the t-shirt over her head, settling it on her body.

"Booth, I'm done," she calls.

He pushes open the bathroom door and steps into the bedroom. He's shirtless, and she realizes this is a look she could learn to love a lot. She self-consciously tugs the t-shirt further down her legs, attempting some modesty. Booth just grins and lobs a towel at her, slinging on over his shoulder as well.

"Let's go," he says.

He leads her back down the hallway and through the kitchen to the back door. She trails silently behind him, scuffing her feet on the cold tile floor. Booth passes through the door, holding it open for her to come through as well. The night, now completely dark, is chilly and she feels goose bumps spring to life on her skin. The scene is familiar, and she flashes back to the night at Booth's parents' house. Three days ago… how did it come to this?

Booth takes her towel and tosses it over the patio chair along with his own. He flips back the cover of the hot tub, shoving it off the side and onto the deck. He presses a few buttons, and soon the jets spring to life, breaking the silence. Booth climbs in, settling himself against the padded seat and sighing in ecstasy. Temperance, arms crossed over her chest, walks to the edge. Booth's eyes are closed, but he can feel her presence.

"Come on, get in," he says. "Trust me, it will help you relax."

She trusts him, but lately her trust in herself has been rapidly depleting. With a sigh, she uncrosses her arms and dangles a hand in the water. It feels nice, she admits, and loosens her shoulders. She reaches up to tie her hair back, and Booth forces himself not to stare when the t-shirt rides up a bit to expose more of her legs. Good God, Bones is a woman!

"I _do_ trust you, Booth," she replies.

Splashing slightly, she manages to climb into the water. She chooses a seat opposite from him and he's slightly disappointed. However, Booth reminds himself that this is Bones, and she still hasn't changed. He flashes her a smile.

"See? I told you," he chastises.

"You know, it's been scientifically proven that hot baths are neurologically stimulating," she lectures, "but the sensation of relaxation is an illusion, caused by the need to be still while body temperature is restored to normal."

She leans back and closes her eyes, head resting on the edge of the hot tub. Booth watches her intently and nearly jumps out of his skin when he feels her leg brush his beneath the water. So much for relaxing! They're quiet for a moment, neither knowing what the other is thinking, and then she speaks.

"I almost called my brother today," she says.

Booth searches for her eyes, but finds her staring at the bubbling water instead. Torn, he scoots across the hot tub and sits beside her, groping for her hand under the water. Finding it, he squeezes it reassuringly and she finally looks at him.

"Really? I didn't know you had any contact information," Booth wonders out loud.

"I do. He lives in Ohio, some small town," she pauses.

She drops her eyes again, and he realizes with shock that she's crying. He tugs her towards him, turning her body to face his more fully. Settling a hand on her shoulder, he supports her with encouragement.

"Bones?" he prods.

"Booth, I don't know what to do! I really want to call him, but what if he doesn't want to talk to me! I mean, I haven't exactly been all that receiving these past years," she sniffles.

"Bones, listen to me. Your brother did a horrible thing when he left you, but that was a long time ago. You're each other's only family now. I promise that he'll appreciate your efforts to get back in touch," Booth calms her.

"Don't make a promise that you can't keep, Booth," she scolds.

"I don't make empty promises, Bones, you know that," he says in reply, tightening his hand on her shoulder. "Call him or you'll regret it later."

"I know, but it's just so hard," she admits. "The past is something that I don't like to explore, unless it has to do with work. You of all people should understand," she says.

"I do understand," Booth replies, "and I _do_ promise. Okay?"

"Okay," she nods.

She realizes their position now, for what seems like the first time, and freezes. Booth is in front of her, hands on her shoulders, face inches from hers. His eyes are doing that thing again, where they get all dark and sexy, and she swears the pads of his thumbs are brushing against her neck. Temperance closes her eyes and sighs, parting her lips and nearly begging for him to kiss her. Booth leans forward and turns her head, planting a sweet kiss on the flushed skin of her cheek, just in front of her ear. Her hands travel to his chest, nails pressing slightly against the broad expanse of exposed muscle. He suppresses a groan at the contact and slides one hand up to her hair, tugging on it tenderly.

"Booth?" she says softly.

"Yes?" he mumbles against her mouth.

"Could you kiss me already?" she begs gently.

He smiles and she can feel it against her lips. _Almost, almost… oh damn!_ The neighbor's floodlights flip on, illuminating both backyards in a sea of yellow. Booth, startled, jumps away from her as if they were doing something illegal. Disappointment shows on her face, and Booth runs his fingers through his damp hair, sighing. They look at each other for a moment, wondering, before Booth takes her hand and pulls her to her feet.

"Inside, Bones," he utters.

The climb out, soaking wet and shivering, and Booth admires the way his drenched t-shirt clings to her curves before draping a towel over her shoulders. He replaces the cover on the hot tub and switches it off. Temperance stands by the door, dabbing herself with the towel so that she won't drip all over his floor.

"Booth, can I use your shower?" she asks. "I want to rinse the chlorine out of your shirt," she clarifies.

He nods, brushing past her towards the bathroom, Temperance following on his heels. The bathroom attached to his bedroom is small, hardly big enough for two very uncomfortable people to be standing in together. She enters first and gratefully flashes him a smile before climbing into the shower. Booth, however, doesn't leave yet. Pushing aside the sliding glass door, he leans in after her and she reflexively flattens against the cold tile wall. Grinning, he reaches for the shower dial and turns the water on, adjusting the temperature to hot before retreating back in to the bathroom.

"There's towels in the cabinet over the toilet, feel free to use whatever you want," he calls over the sound of the water.

Poking her head out, Temperance gives him an indecipherable look, making him pause in the doorway.

"Thank you," she says genuinely.

Somehow knowing that she wasn't just talking about the towels, Booth gives her the charm smile and nods.

"Anytime, Bones," he replies.

She disappears back into the shower, leaving Booth to stare at her silhouette for the briefest of seconds before leaving, the door clicking into place behind him.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Did you like? I certainly did. Please, leave a review, they really make my day. Coming up next, Tempe's job calls for a trip and Booth has a family crisis.


	5. Chapter 5

**Sweet Dreams and Flying Machines**

**

* * *

**

**Author's Note: **Sorry about the terrible wait. I'm now a high school graduate with a free summer ahead of me, so hopefully I'll manage to get this story rolling. For now, here's the next chapter. Pure fluff, I suppose. Sorry about the length, it's just a filler.

* * *

She showers quickly, using what sparse toiletries Booth has in the cubby hanging around the shower head. Switching off the water, she wrings the water out of the shirt, watching as the navy blue dye spirals down the drain. She tosses the shirt over the shower door, leaving it there to dry.

Stepping carefully out of the shower, she reaches for the cabinet and pulls out a fluffy white bath towel. She dries hastily and wraps the towel around her body. Her clothes are still folded on Booth's bed, and she needs to leave the bathroom to retrieve them. She walks to the door and pushes it open, but freezes when she sees Booth reclining against the headboard. His eyes are closed, but he stirs as the light from the bathroom falls across his face. Running a hand over his face, he yawns and notices Tempe standing in the doorway, clad in only a towel.

"Bones?" he's surprised.

She breaks her trance and blinks, stuttering over her words as she shifts on her feet.

"Booth! I'm sorry," she pauses. "I just need to, um…" she gestures at the pile of clothes on the bed next to him with one hand, holding the towel up with the other.

Booth, mesmerized by the sight of her so scantily covered, standing in his bedroom, lets his gaze wander over her body before he meets her eyes. She's staring at him, a strange look on her face, and he's jerked back to reality.

"Oh, yeah…" he trails off. "Go ahead, I'm leaving," he rises from the bed and backs from the room.

Once the door is closed, Tempe dresses quickly and arranges the towel in the bathroom with Booth's shirt. She subconsciously checks her appearance in the mirror, something she's not accustomed to doing. Satisfied, she exits the bedroom and makes her way down the hall to the living room.

Booth is on the couch, lounged against the armrest and watching some pointless sports game on ESPN. Tempe approaches him from the side, and when he sees her, Booth gives her a small smile. Gesturing to the couch beside him, he moves his legs to make room for her to sit. She hesitates, ever so briefly, but perches lightly next to him.

"You know, I won't bite," Booth points out.

Tempe blushes, her hair hiding the faint pink tinge. She scoots over and ends up pressed against him, hip to hip. He's warm and solid, and she resists the urge to do something entirely inappropriate. Instead, she lets her head fall nonchalantly onto his shoulder and sighs, closing her eyes. The warm water from the hot tub and the relaxing shower succeeded in making her tired, and it's starting to show.

Booth stiffens at the initial contact, but then puts his arm around her shoulder and hugs her closer to him, leaning them back to stretch out on the couch. He smiles as he feels her burrow into his chest, and he moves two fingers to tangle in a lock of her auburn hair.

"I don't put out on the first date, Bones," he scolds lightheartedly.

She raises her head, eyes clouded with tiredness, and blinks at him.

"Put out what?" she asks unknowingly.

Booth chuckles and she feels it all the way to her toes.

"Never mind," he says.

Settling back against his chest, her breathing slows and becomes more regular. Booth can tell that she's asleep, and soon he feels himself nod off as well.

* * *

Two hours later, at 11:30, Booth jerks awake. The room is dim, but he doesn't remember flicking off the television. He sits up and stretches, releasing the tension in his muscles from staying in one spot for too long. He's cold and tired, and he knows something is missing.

A noise comes from the direction of the door, and Booth immediately looks towards the foyer. He sees her there, Tempe, and remembers the night. She's leaning against the wall, struggling with her shoes, and it hits him that she is going to leave without saying goodbye. Rising from the couch, he approaches her quietly.

"Jeez, Booth!" she jumps when she sees him. "You scared me, I thought you were still asleep."

Her shoes are on now, and she's standing there with folded arms, keys in one hand.

"You're leaving?" he questions.

"It's late," she shrugs.

His expression shifts to something unreadable, and Tempe feels the need to justify herself to him.

"I left a note," she says almost defensively. _Did he really expect that I'd leave without a word?_

Booth relaxes and his face lifts considerably.

"So, I'll see you?" he asks.

"Yeah," she replies with a smile. "Bye."

She turns away and pulls open the door. She's halfway through the threshold when he grabs her arm, stopping her. With a questioning look on her face, she twists back around to look at him.

"Dinner," he states.

"What?" she replies, confused.

"Tomorrow night. I'll pick you up at seven," his tone is demanding. "And I won't take no for an answer."

She scans his face, searching for his intentions. His eyes are sincere, and he wears the damnable smile on his lips.

"Okay," she nods. "It's a date."

"Good," he says, dropping his hand from her arm.

She leaves, and he watches her as she walks down the driveway to her car. Only when the tail lights disappear from view does he go inside once again, reflecting on one of the strangest nights he's had in a long time.

* * *

**Author's Note: **That was alright, I guess. I decided that I needed to get a few more moments in before moving on with the plot. Call this a filler chapter, I promise something more exciting will happen in the next chapter. Writer's block has definitely set in, I apologize for the craziness. You know what would make me feel better? 100 reviews. Go crazy.


	6. Chapter 6

**Sweet Dreams and Flying Machines **

**

* * *

**

**Author's Note: **So, I seem to have a problem with updating. I'm terribly sorry, but the reward of this chapter should even it up. It's my longest yet, without a doubt! Yeah, I'm a big fan of the BB fluff and I can't seem to escape it. Enjoy. Oh, and if anybody's curious about the restaurant, go here – www (dot) geranio (dot) net.

* * *

At work the next morning, Temperance is distracted. Strangely, no new cases have found their way into Booth's hands, so there's no reason for him to come to the Jeffersonian. To take her tired mind off of a certain FBI agent, Temperance busies herself with an ancient skeleton, shipped in only yesterday. Absorbed in her work, bent over the examination table, she doesn't hear Angela's footsteps and is rather surprised when her friend taps her on the shoulder.

"Hey Bren, let's go get lunch," Angela suggests, her purse already strung over her shoulder.

Temperance straightens and stretches her arms above her head, glancing at the clock on the wall. It's half-past-twelve and her rumbling stomach makes the decision for her.

"Sure, that sounds great," she replies, snapping off her rubber gloves and tossing them into the trash. "Just let me grab my jacket."

Temperance disappears around the corner into her office and slips off her lab coat, shrugging easily into a tan blazer. Adjusting the collar, she makes her way back to Angela and smiles at her friend.

"Okay, I'm ready," she says, and the two friends head for the elevators.

In no time they're on the ground floor, planning to walk across the street to the tiny Italian café that they frequent often. Temperance feels a nudge in her side and gives Angela a look.

"What?" she questions.

"Oh, hey Booth," Angela clarifies, waving at the agent as he walks in the door they're about to go out of. "What brings you here?"

Booth stops in front of the pair, flashing a brilliant charm smile at Angela when she greets him. Temperance finds herself staring at him, noticing the abnormal way that he's dressed. Gone is the suit jacket; Booth wears a light blue dress shirt, sans tie and unbuttoned at the collar, and dark dress pants with his usual belt buckle. She looks past him towards outside and sees that it's raining, the kind of drizzle that spring in D.C. brings. Booth's hair is dusted with raindrops and his pants are wet at the bottoms.

"Hi Ange," he says, giving Temperance a strange look. "I just came by to take Bones out to lunch."

At the sound of that ridiculous nickname, Temperance jerks to reality and focuses on Booth, or more accurately, focuses on the triangle of flesh revealed where his shirt lies spread open against his throat. Angela observes this interaction and files it away, questions lingering on her tongue.

"Well, actually Booth, Angela and I were going to--" she is cut off by Booth.

"That's okay, I understand. Girl time and all that," Booth replies, cocking an eyebrow.

Temperance can't help but notice the slight twinge of disappointment in his voice.

"I'll catch you later Bones," he says. "Bye Ange."

Without another word, Booth turns on his heel and exits the building, back into the dismal sprinkle of rain. Angela and Temperance watch him go before heading outside themselves. _Three, two, one…_

"What's going on?" Angela questions, right on cue.

Temperance sighs, expecting the third degree. She thinks for a moment, wondering on the best way to save time and energy, before deciding on a defense.

"No, we didn't kiss. No, we didn't have sex. No, we aren't fighting. Yes, everything's fine," she fires. "Does that answer all your questions?"

Angela, rather taken aback, looks sideways at her friend and nods. By this time, the two women have made it across the street and into the café without getting soaked, a feat in itself. They're seated quickly, despite the busy hour, and it's a while before either of them speaks again. They each thank the waiter for their food and absorb themselves with what's sitting in front of them.

"Angela?" Temperance asks all of a sudden.

Angela looks up from her drink.

"Yeah?" she replies, curious.

"What exactly does one wear on a very important date?" Temperance questions, green eyes sparkling.

"Okay Tempe, cue me in here," Angela demands. "What's going on?"

Temperance stabs a piece of lettuce with her fork, bringing it to her mouth and chewing thoughtfully. Angela stares expectantly at her, knowing that something is different.

"Booth is taking me to dinner tonight," Temperance answers.

"Oh sweetie, that's wonderful!" Angela squeals, leaning across the table to clasp her friend's hands between her own. "Your first date, now that's a milestone!"

"Actually, it will be our second date," Temperance clarifies, remembering the night at Booth's in the hot tub.

"Your second date? How come I didn't know about it?" Angela feigns hurt.

"Ange, _I _didn't even know about it," Temperance muses. "It was a bit impulsive of me," she continues. "I brought him food last night and we talked about some things," she shrugs.

"So you're telling me that you went to Booth's house late at night and all you did was talk? Jeez Bren, what a glimpse of your wild side," Angela deadpans.

Temperance takes another bite of her salad, washing it down with a sip of water from the glass to her left. She clears her throat and a blush creeps onto her cheeks as she shifts under Angela's intense gaze.

"Well, there was the hot tub," Temperance says vaguely.

"What?" Angela's eyes nearly pop from her face.

Temperance shakes her head, a small smile appearing on her lips.

"Later Ange, later," she says. "But for now, I need your help deciding what to wear tonight," she instructs.

"Of course," Angela agrees quickly, nodding. "Booth won't know what hit him," she says confidently.

"Good," Temperance is immediately relieved. "Come over after work?"

"Sure," Angela replies.

The friends finish off their lunch in near silence, Temperance contemplating the extreme implications of tonight and Angela mentally cataloguing her friend's wardrobe in search of something suitable. When the bill arrives, they split it and head back to the Jeffersonian.

* * *

"Oh Tempe, you look beautiful!" Angela fawns.

Emerging from her bedroom, Temperance totters on high heels across the carpet to Angela's side. She smoothes the dress down over her hips, eyebrows rising at the compliment.

"Really?" she questions unsurely.

"Sweetie," Angela calms her, "if Booth doesn't think so, then he's not a man. Either that, or he's blind!" she chuckles.

"Thanks Ange," Temperance gratefully says. "You should go. I need to finish getting ready before seven."

As Angela leaves, Temperance retreats back into her bedroom to put the final touches on her outfit. Looking at herself in the mirror, she's quite pleased with the way she looks. The dress is gorgeous, a sleek black strapless number that she'd picked up a while ago and never had the chance to wear. It hits her just below the knee, the empire waste line accenting her shape. On her feet she wears sensible heels, black pumps with a slightly pointed toe that only make her legs look longer. Her hair is down in curling waves, a few errant strands bobby-pinned back to create a tousled look. Yes, Booth won't have any idea what hit him.

Finishing her makeup just in time, she hears a knock on the door and the butterflies immediately jump in her stomach. They've never done this before; as of tonight, any lines either of them has drawn are being crossed. Stuffing these thoughts into the back of her mind, Temperance makes her way to the foyer and steadies herself.

Pressing her nose against the door, she leans up and peers through the peephole to see a distorted view of Booth. Slightly anxious, Temperance sinks back down and turns, leaning her back against the door. Why didn't the nerves kick in until now? A loud knock right by her head startles her.

"Bones?" Booth yells. "Open up, we'll be late!"

His voice, the one she knows so well, is familiar to her and immediately offers her an intangible comfort. She takes a deep breath, and three seconds after his yell she opens the door wide. Booth stands on the threshold, smiling brightly. In his hand he holds a bouquet of flowers, not the traditional red roses, but a brilliant mixture of White and Stargazer Lilies, accented with a delicate arrangement of Baby's Breath.

However, Temperance doesn't notice the flowers first. Her eyes go directly to Booth. He's all crisp and clean-shaven, radiating that smell that is so uniquely him. His suit is black, his shirt white, and his tie is a dark red silk. Polished black dress shoes top off his outfit, and Temperance is staring, raking her eyes across the hard planes of his body.

She notices the smile on Booth's lips fade as he drops his gaze to flicker over her curves. They're standing in her doorway like idiots, staring at each other. Temperance reacts first, clearing her throat and quirking an eyebrow.

"What?" she questions, feeling a bit like a teenager.

Booth meets her eyes and shrugs his shoulders, moving past her and heading towards the kitchen to find a vase for the flowers.

"Nothing," he replies. "You just look beautiful, that's all," he states simply.

"Thank you. For the flowers, I mean," she says, willing herself not to flush as she follows him.

She stands by the breakfast bar, watching him move about her kitchen like he belongs there. He avoids the fridge, she notices, and cringes inside. That is a night that they'd both like to erase. Except, of course, for the feel of his arms around her as he rescued her from Kenton. She finds that her gaze slips to those arms, flexing beneath two layers of fabric as he braces himself on the counter, reaching for a vase. Lost in thought, she doesn't realize that he's finished with the flowers and is standing beside her with a goofy grin that lights up his eyes.

"What?" he teases, knowing exactly what she is thinking from the expression on her face.

Jerked from her reflection, Temperance does the first thing that comes to her blank mind. Reaching out her hand, she lays it on his left bicep and squeezes lightly. The line has been crossed. Her hand slides down his arm, the material rough under her fingers, and tapers off as she reaches his elbow.

"Nothing," she utters nonchalantly. "Let's go."

Temperance grabs her purse from the table and heads for the door. Booth watches her go, shaking his head. She could definitely be surprising sometimes. He joins her in the foyer and they're on their way.

* * *

The couple reaches the car without further incident on either of their parts. Booth drives the same standard black FBI vehicle that he drives everyday. He opens the door for her, letting his eyes grace the pale expanse of her bare legs as she climbs into the car. Making his way to the driver's side, he buckles his seatbelt and starts the engine.

"Where are we eating?" Temperance asks, kicking her heels off onto the floor.

"It's a surprise," he answers. "But I'll give you a hint. It starts with 'Geranio' and ends with 'Ristorante'," he supplies, the Italian rolling effortlessly off his tongue.

"Geranio Ristorante?" Temperance repeats, surprised.

"Yeah, that's what I said," Booth jests.

"That's a nice place Booth," she says, speculating the future cost of their dinners.

"I know," he replies. "Only the best," his eyes slip sideways to glance at her before returning to the road.

Temperance, satisfied, settles back against the seat to watch the scenery roll by. Soon they're at the restaurant and Booth parks the car. They meet in front, Booth on the way to open her door for her. Shrugging off his chivalry, Temperance tilts her head and gestures to the front doors.

"Come on," she instructs.

They walk side-by-side, not touching, though Booth fights the urge to grab her hand. He had made the reservations last night, right after Temperance left, and they have no problem getting to their table. The atmosphere of the restaurant is relaxed, a bit romantic, and the dining room is dim, lit by candles at each individual table. Booth orders them wine, a superbly expensive Sangiovese Merlot, his guilty pleasure.

"This is wonderful," he comments, tasting some.

"Booth, are we dating?" Temperance asks out of the blue, oblivious to his previous comment about the wine.

Setting his glass down on the table, Booth meets her gaze.

"Right now, I'd say what we're doing could be classified as dating," he says teasingly.

"No, I mean are we 'dating' dating? Like 'this is my boyfriend, Booth' dating," she says.

"You'd better not introduce me as 'Booth'," he retorts, eyes sparkling. "How about 'this is my boyfriend, the magnificent Seeley Booth: FBI extraordinaire, crime-stopping genius, god of all things sex and war--'" he is cut of by Temperance.

"Booth!" she scolds, noticing as the couple at the table next to them looks over. "Stop it, people can hear you!" she wishes she wasn't embarrassed.

"Of course, Seeley Booth is zilch without his brilliant, sexy, intelligent and stunning partner-in-crime, Doctor Temperance Brennan," he continues as if he didn't hear her, cocking an eyebrow in suggestion.

She grins at him, wondering why she feels so comfortable in such an unconventional situation with Booth. Her question, she realizes, was evaded, but the out-of-context compliments he paid to her justified his would-be answer.

Further conversation about the issue is halted as the waiter arrives, and the pair orders their food and lapses into quiet small talk common between them.

* * *

The night passes quickly, and before they know it, they're at Temperance's front door. The wine, warm in her stomach, lowers her inhibitions, and Temperance makes an offer.

"Would you like to come in, Booth?" she asks, already unlocking the door.

"Sure," he nods his reply.

Flipping on the light, Temperance escorts him into the living room.

"Feel free to do whatever, I'll be right back," she says, leaving Booth on the couch as she heads towards her bedroom.

In front of the mirror in her room, Temperance removes the few pins from her hair and takes out her earrings. Settling these and the rest of her jewelry in the oak box on her dresser, she contemplates changing out of the dress. Remembering Booth's appreciation of her outfit earlier in the evening, she opts to leave it on.

Her now bare feet, freed from the confines of heels, are soundless on the wooden floor of the hallway. When she enters the living room, Booth has moved from the couch. He stands in front of her stereo system, scanning through her CD collection just like he did before. Sensing her watching him, he turns around and smiles.

"I see your taste in music hasn't changed, eh Bones?" he laughs, holding up the Foreigner case and waggling an eyebrow at her.

She smiles back at him and walks to his side. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, eyes sparkling and cheeks flushed, and all Booth wants to do is kiss her. Before he has time to contemplate this, her arms are around his back, her chest pressing against his. She's hugging him, the side of her face resting against his shoulder, and he hugs her back. Temperance holds him tight, breathing him in, and she knows that he is smelling her hair when he shifts and turns his head. After a moment, she pulls away slightly, hands moving to his shoulders, and looks up into his face.

"Thank you," she says.

"For what?" he asks, splaying his fingers against the small of her back.

"For a really nice night," she replies sincerely.

"Like I said, only the best for the brilliant, sexy, intelligent and stunning Doctor Temperance Brennan," he repeats his words from earlier.

"What about you?" she questions.

"What about me?" he's confused.

"Did you have a good time?" she clarifies.

"I did Bones, I really did," Booth nods. "And I'm glad you enjoyed it. Maybe we'll have to go out again, huh?" he smiles.

In answer, Temperance moves her previously still hands from his shoulders. They skim inwards to the collar of his shirt and toy with the top button, just above the knot of his tie. In seconds she has it unbuttoned and she shifts her focus to the tie itself. The backs of her hands brush against Booth's neck and she notices how he shivers at her touch.

Unknotting his tie, she pulls it from beneath his collar and discards it. She smoothes her hands across his chest, studying the hard muscles flexing beneath his dress shirt. Booth's hands, unmoving against her back, now dance upwards and brush the sides of her breasts on their ascent. They settle into her hair, and Temperance notes Booth's apparent fascination with the auburn waves framing her face.

Her hands slip beneath his suit jacket and push it from his shoulders onto the floor, reveling in the warmth he gives off. Running her palms from the back of his neck down to his belt, she mentally catalogues each muscle she feels. Trapezius, infraspinatus, latissimus dorsi, obliquus externus abdominis, and the wonderfully well-defined gluteus maximus. Looping her fingers through the belt loops on the side of his pants, she tugs gently and brings the front of his body into complete contact with hers.

Booth shifts forward, pressing himself to her curves. The tantalizing skin of her shoulders, bared by the strapless dress, tempts him and he dips his head to brush his lips lightly against her collarbone. He loves the sleek line of her jaw and neck, freed from her usual chunky jewelry, and lets his lips travel over her décolletage and up towards her earlobe. Temperance's hands, flat against his chest, clutch at his shirt as he blows lightly into her ear, and she sucks in a breath when Booth's bristly cheek grazes her own.

She slips her hands down to his waist, tugging his shirt from his pants and scraping her nails against the skin of his stomach. His muscles ripple beneath her touch, and when he pulls away to look at her face, she can see the searing look in his eyes. Her fingers dip below the waste band of his pants, teasing, and his warm hands move to caress the undersides of her breasts through the fabric of her dress. Aroused by the sensation, Temperance angles her head back, exposing her throat to his dangerously skillful lips.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Temperance registers that though she and Booth are more physically intimate than they've ever been before, they have yet to kiss on the lips. A kiss would be real, solid, the deciding factor for their relationship. Booth, at this moment, is real and solid beneath her hands, but she wants to see his face, to kiss him and restore the confidence of knowing that they're ready to take the next step.

Tilting her head back down, she licks her lips and slides her hands around Booth's neck. His eyes meet hers, dark and hooded with desire, and she runs her fingers through his hair, pulling his head and his lips closer to hers. He smiles at her, the charm smile, and if it is at all scientifically possible, she melts into a puddle on the floor. Savor this moment, something tells her, so she studies his face, letting her gaze roam over the lines on his forehead, his slightly crooked nose, kissable lips and dimpled chin.

A vibration, followed by a loud beep, startles both of them apart. They remain, staring at one another, for a few more moments, and then Booth snaps out of it. The vibration is his cell phone, still in the pocket of his pants. Grabbing the phone and glancing at the caller ID, he flips it open.

"Booth," he gives his usual greeting, his gaze flickering to Temperance who remains not two feet in front of him.

As he listens to the caller, Booth's expression shifts from arousal to concern, from concern to sheer panic. Without a warning, he slams the phone shut and stands in front of Temperance, eyes glazed and unfocused. She notices that his hands are shaking, and his complexion is going whiter by the second.

"Booth, what is it?" she asks. "What's wrong?"

His posture slumps, shoulders drooping, and she's by his side in an instant. Concern is etched across her features, and the comforting hand she places on his forearm urges Booth from his trance. Clearing his throat, he turns to her, eyes focusing on a point somewhere over her right shoulder.

"Ah, it's my father," he stutters. "He's in the hospital."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Haha, to keep you waiting just a bit longer. So, Booth and Brennan decided that they wanted their first actual kiss to be special. And later on in the story, maybe within the next couple of chapters. But who cares about that! I hope you enjoyed their mini groping session! Yeah, I did, definitely. Leave a review!


	7. Chapter 7

**Sweet Dreams and Flying Machines**

**

* * *

**

**Author's Note: **Here it is! There's a healthy dose of angst and fluff, plus a reference to Hannibal the Cannibal. I hope you enjoy! Review, as always.

* * *

"Booth," she says. "Booth! Seeley!"

Temperance's hand finds his, cold and still shaking slightly. She squeezes it reassuringly, forcing Booth to look at her. Slipping his phone from his hand, she slides it back into his front pocket, fishing out his car keys at the same time. Temperance grabs his jacket from the floor and hands it to Booth, urging him to put the garment back on.

"Let's go," she instructs, jingling his keys in his face.

Booth nods, tucking his shirt back in and folding the jacket over his arm. His eyes, so dark with desire mere moments before, are wide and distracted as he looks at her. Temperance moves towards the door and slips on some shoes, Booth close behind her.

"Bones, I-I'm…" Booth tries to convey his fears to her.

"I know," she replies, voice soft and hand seeking his. "Come on," she reiterates.

For the third time that night, they find themselves in the hallway of Temperance's building. It's late and they don't pass a single person on the way to the car. Temperance presses the automatic unlock button on Booth's key ring and climbs into the driver's seat. For once she gets to drive, but she'd rather like to have the privilege under other circumstances.

Booth buckles in beside her, leaning his elbow on the door, chin resting in his hand as he stares out the window. Temperance navigates the streets quickly but safely, keeping a close watch on Booth from the corner of her eye. This is strange; she's the temporary rock in their relationship now, rationally taking control of the situation and promising the best for him. Her thoughts though are on what lies before them at the hospital.

A half-hour passes and they're in the parking lot. The bright red sign pointing towards the emergency room mocks them as they walk swiftly beneath it and into the building. The waiting room is packed, typical of any D.C. hospital, but Temperance hardly notices. She marches up to the desk, Booth lagging slightly behind her, and immediately catches a nurse's attention.

"Excuse me," she says. "Noah Booth? What room is he in?"

The nurse looks up from the chart in her hands and grimaces.

"I'm sorry ma'am, I can't give you that information," she replies. "New privacy acts, it's classified," she explains, stony gaze fixed on Temperance.

Temperance's eyes narrow and her hands curl into fists by her sides.

"Look, I don't care if it's classified or not," Temperance retorts. "If you don't want to tell me, I'll--" a threat of bodily harm is on the tip of her tongue, but Booth's hand on her shoulder, fingers digging firmly into her skin, hastily stops her.

"I'm his son," Booth states. "And she's my wife," he adds, nodding at Temperance.

The nurse, obviously used to being threatened and hardly frazzled by it, huffs a breath and rolls her eyes at the pair.

"Where on earth did you find her?" she asks Booth while gesturing to the slightly calmed Temperance now hovering behind him.

"Museum," he explains.

"Ah," the nurse smiles. "Room 117, down the hall to your right."

"Thank you," Booth replies, steering Temperance towards the double doors of the corridor, hand still on her shoulder.

Temperance gives the nurse a tight smile, teeth grinding. As soon as they pass behind the door, she wheels on Booth.

"Your wife?" she asks.

Booth nods, the hint of a smile passing over his lips before vanishing into a frown again.

"Bones, you know that only family is allowed, and calling you my wife makes you family," he chastises. "Unless you want to stay out there. I saw an empty seat next to Hannibal Lecter in the corner," he jokes.

"Who?" she questions, obviously perplexed.

"Fictional sociopath psychiatrist and cannibal," he responds. "You two would have loads to talk about," he quirks an eyebrow at her.

Temperance opens her mouth to rebuke, but closes it suddenly and tilts her head slightly to the side.

"You're doing that teasing thing again, aren't you?" she asks.

This, combined with the look on her face, draws the first full smile from Booth since they left for the hospital.

"Yup, you bet I am," he replies, nodding.

They continue on down the hallway, Booth counting the numbers on the doors until they reach 117. Three chairs rest outside the room and one is occupied by Booth's sister Danny. She looks up at the sound of footsteps and immediately stands to hug her brother.

"Seeley, thank God you're here," she says with relief.

"Where's Mom?" he asks, releasing his sister from the hug.

"She went to get coffee downstairs. Jared couldn't get off work," she replies.

Temperance watches this exchange with a mixture of feelings, and she wills away the little green monster called 'jealousy' by reminding herself of why they're here in the first place.

"Temperance, nice to see you again," Danny greets her with a hug as well.

A bit taken aback, Temperance nods in reply and doesn't miss the look that passes between brother and sister, the latter most likely wondering about her company with Booth at such a late hour.

"How's Dad?" Booth asks then, running a hand through his tousled hair.

"He passed out and hit his head on the corner of the dining room table. The doctor is saying the fainting is heart-related," she explains.

Booth is relieved, though a slight hint of worry still lingers in the front of his mind. His knees feel weak and he sinks down into one of the chairs. Temperance comes to sit beside him, her hand resting on his arm lightly.

Just then, the door to 117 opens and a kindly looking elderly man in a white coat pokes his head out and smirks, glasses perched precariously on the edge of his nose.

"Miss Booth?" he addresses Danny. "Would you be so kind as to assist us, please?"

A pair of squabbling voices can be heard coming from the room behind the doctor.

_"Mr. Booth, you need to sit still. I have to stitch the cut on your head," the nurse scolds. _

_"Get this damn gown off of me and give me my shirt!" is the reply. "I'm getting out of this hellhole and I don't care what you have to do!" _

_"Please, Mr. Booth. Sit down!" the nurse's voice raises. _

_"Go to hell!" he bellows. "And it's _Colonel _Booth!" _

The three people in the hallway exchange glances, and a bemused Danny excuses herself and follows the doctor back into the room. As the door swings shut behind her, Temperance and Booth look at each other, identical grins on their faces.

"He never did like hospitals much," Booth comments.

"Like father, like son," she counters.

They fall silent, staring at the white of the wall across from them. When Booth speaks again, his voice is low and quiet, barely audible even to Temperance.

"When I got back from the Middle East, after…" he trails off.

She nods, remembering. _You know on your x-rays, there's a history of multiple fractures on your feet consistent with beating. It's a common method of torture in the Middle East, beating the soles of the feet with pipes or hoses._ Her hand finds his and she angles slightly in her seat, encouraging him to go on.

"I was in the hospital for three weeks. My dad didn't come and visit me once," his voice breaks a little, but he clears his throat and continues. "It just would have been nice to see him, that's all," Booth attempts a smile, one side of his mouth quirking upwards.

"Booth, I know better than anyone that the past can haunt a person, make them hollow inside. Finding out what happened to my parents doesn't change the fact that they're gone and they're never coming back, no matter how much I wish it," Temperance tries to reassure him by relating her own problems.

"It's difficult to forget," he says. "Not just that, but everything," he shrugs.

"We can't define ourselves based on our pasts. Finding out my real name, that whole thing with my mother's case, it changed me," she admits. "I know now that my life is defined by the people in it. Russ, Angela… you," she smiles. "Now I'm not so hollow."

Temperance wonders at the ease with which her confessions come out to Booth. Her words are supposed to be comforting, but rather than consoling him about his father, she's burdening him with her troubles. When she looks at him only to find that he's staring at her, eyes dark and serious, she blushes.

"Sorry," she ducks her head. "I'm much more articulate on paper."

"Nah, that was a compelling speech, Bones," he says gently, ignoring her apology.

"Well I--" she tries to speak, but Booth cuts her off.

"Thank you," he utters, pulling her into a hug.

It seems as if the universe is conspiring to abruptly break up all of their moments at the worse possible time. The door to room 117 swings open yet again, and Danny, along with the same doctor from before and another annoyed-looking nurse, emerges. Danny and the nurse take off down the hallway, the former muttering something about finding her mother. Booth reluctantly releases Temperance and they rise from their chairs, going to meet the doctor.

"Agent Booth, I'm Dr. Peterson," he introduces himself and shakes Booth's hand.

"How is he?" Booth asks.

"He hit his head pretty hard going down, but it just looks superficial. There's no sign of a concussion, but we're going to keep him overnight to make sure he's clear," he answers.

"What about his heart?"

"That's what we're worried about. As far as we can tell, it was the angina that caused him to pass out. We need to do some more tests before we can be completely sure that he's out of danger," the doctor explains.

Booth nods, taking it all in.

"You can see him now if you like," Dr. Peterson says, vivid blue eyes twinkling behind narrow-rimmed glasses as takes leave of the pair.

Booth thanks the doctor and steps aside, letting him pass. Temperance watches him, noticing how the lines on his forehead grow deeper as he moves to the door. Pushing it open, he slips into the room and Temperance follows, hovering in the threshold.

"Colonel," Booth greets his father briefly.

"Seeley," he says, apparently content to see his son. "Temperance, come over here," he instructs with no intention of leaving her out.

She obeys, swiftly walking to the side of the bed next to Booth.

"Colonel Booth, how are you feeling?" she asks him courteously.

"Truthfully? Like hell. I hate hospitals. Except for the pretty nurses, of course."

Temperance glances sideways at Booth to see him roll his eyes.

"They have me hooked up to so many damn machines. I'm not supposed to be moving around too much," he grumps. "Hand me one of those puddings over there?" he asks Temperance, gesturing at the food cart sitting just out of his reach.

The look on his face is so similar to the one that Booth had given her during his stay in the hospital that Temperance has to work hard to stifle a grin. She obliges and deftly tears the lid off, handing the treat to the Colonel along with a spoon.

"Mmmm, good stuff," he scoops the pudding into his mouth eagerly.

Temperance, sufficiently calmed, gives Booth a look and he shrugs. Like father, like son indeed. What an interesting concept.

"How was your date?" Colonel Booth pipes up, breaking up their staring contest.

"What?" Booth replies.

"Your date," his father repeats. "I can put two and two together," he raises an eyebrow and glances at Temperance's attire.

Looking down at herself, Temperance remembers that she's still dressed up. On her feet, however, are some worn gray running shoes, the first pair she had encountered in their mad dash to get out the door. Hardly believing that she had traipsed around the hospital in them, Temperance blushes.

"Nice shoes, Bones," Booth mocks.

"Shut up," she glares at him.

"And our date is none of your business, Colonel," Booth says pointedly to his father.

Seeing their flashing eyes and sensing a battle in the making, Temperance steps in and averts a crisis. She smoothes her dress down and smiles at the Colonel.

"It was great, Colonel Booth. We went to Geranio Ristorante," she successfully calms the Booth men. "Your son has good taste."

"That he does," the Colonel replies, nodding at Temperance. "I'm surprised you weren't too busy to stop in and see me, with your FBI work and all," he addresses Booth.

"Don't start that," Booth sighs.

"Start what?"

"_That_. I came and that's what matters, okay?" Booth fights to control his temper.

Temperance clears her throat and Colonel Booth looks askance at her. _I'm familiar with what it's like to live with that regret, with knowing that you never got the chance to apologize._ His gaze returns to Booth and he nods, trying to smile through his annoyance.

"Sorry," the Colonel's voice is rough, evidently not used to making an apology.

Booth looks up sharply, as surprised as his father is that the man actually verbally expressed a request for forgiveness. He can't remember ever hearing the Colonel use that word before, at least not when it really mattered.

"Me too… Dad," Booth replies, sharply nodding at the Colonel, even though his brown eyes had softened their severity.

A moment of understanding passes between the two men. Right before the silence would otherwise become awkward, a nurse pokes her head around the door.

"Visiting hours are over," she says.

"Alright," Booth thanks her. "I guess we should go. It _is _getting late."

"Okay, goodnight," the Colonel bids farewell. "Enjoy the rest of your date. And Temperance, keep him in line," his eyes sparkle with mischief.

"I will, Colonel," she grins at him.

"Bye," Booth says, glaring at his father. "I'll be back tomorrow."

Temperance and Booth go to leave the room, but the Colonel's hesitant voice stops them.

"Seeley? I _do_ love you, son. You know that, don't you?"

Booth turns around, examining his father closely. Temperance's hand hovers over the door handle and she wonders if she should give them some privacy. However, before she can make a decision, Booth's answers him.

"Yeah… yeah, I do," he says quietly.

Booth joins her at the door and they leave the room, dimming the lights with the light switch on the wall. Side-by-side, they start down the long hallway towards the entrance, both weary and exhausted from the long night, but completely aware of the other's presence. Booth slides a hand onto the small of Temperance's back, catching the fabric of her dress between his fingers. With a charming smile, he leans in close to her ear and speaks.

"Ready to go enjoy the rest of our date?" he wickedly suggests.

She turns to him, a reply forming on her tongue, but a swarm of dashing nurses and doctors pushes them out of the way and against the wall. Temperance and Booth watch in horror as the throng stops at room 117 and swiftly enters, firing commands at one another in scientific jumble.

Booth takes off after them, Temperance hot on his heels.

"Booth, wait!" she yells, pushing people out of her way.

She catches him at the doorway of the room and grabs his arm, pure adrenaline giving her the ability to jerk him around to face her. He's breathing hard and his eyes are wide, pure anxiety showing in the brown depths.

"Let go!" he roars.

"Seeley, you can't go in there," Temperance attempts to calm him down. "The doctors know what they're doing, give them room to work," she reasons.

"It's his heart, it _has _to be his heart," Booth repeats. "Oh God, what if--"

"No, don't say that," she stops him. "_Don't _say that."

She rubs her hands up and down his arms, trying to get through to him. Gradually, he slows down, bringing his emotions into check again. Slumping against the wall, he slides until he's sitting on the ground to the left of the door. Legs bent, he rests his elbows on his knees and holds his head in his hands.

Temperance watches him crumple, and without giving a second thought about her dress, she lowers herself down to the hospital floor beside him. Tentatively reaching out a hand, she lays it on his tense shoulder. Booth leans into her touch, and she pulls his head against her chest, slipping an arm around his body.

"He seemed fine," his voice drifts up to her ears. "Just a few minutes ago."

She responds by holding him tighter, tucking his head beneath her chin and lazily running her fingers over his cheek and through his hair, any words she might have said getting stuck in the back of her throat.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Seriously? Seriously. The unfortunate Colonel, I don't think he deserves heart problems. And I didn't mean to make his illness so involved, it kind of just happened. Poor Booth and Brennan, they're never going to get to finish their date. At this rate I'm thinking something along the lines of supply closet sex, whaddya say? Haha, leave a review and tell me how you liked it.


End file.
